


Snapshots

by crazyrebelscarves



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Snapshots, and killing stuff you know, just dumb teenagers being dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 17:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyrebelscarves/pseuds/crazyrebelscarves
Summary: A series of one-shots examining the spaces in-between.





	1. this is not the end (it is just the beginning)

**Author's Note:**

> The last time I decided to rewatch Soul Eater, I started this project out of a sudden and unexpected desire to know more about the characters, their lives, and their experiences, as they navigate their way through adolescence accompanied by violence and loss, and, in equal amounts, friendship and love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children of Death City understand evil and violence as facts of life. This is not universal.

Make is used to it. Soul is not. 

They’ve been on nineteen missions before it happens. Maka, honestly, is surprised it has taken this long. Perhaps their amateur status had prevented it, perhaps they had been lucky. No matter. She grew up in Death City, her father is a Death Scythe, her mother a renowned Meister. This is not the first time she sees the mutilated body of a kishin’s victim up close. 

But for Soul - as she is quickly reminded - this is a new, and rather unwelcome, experience. 

It’s a quick fight - the kishin has not been hunting human souls for long. They finish it off, and Maka, satisfied with their work and without injuries sans the slight bruising of her shoulder, nods her approval as Soul transforms back into a human boy. And promptly pukes his guts out at her feet. 

“Soul! Ew, disgusting!” 

She jumps back and glares at him - only to realise that he is shaking, eyes wide and horrified, staring transfixed at the body of the young man, arms missing, a hole in his chest, lying in a pool of his own blood. And Maka realises, understands. She grew up in this world, _for_ this world, and what is sad and solemn to her is down-right, gut-wrenchingly horrifying to others. 

Sympathy filling her heart, she crouches next to a retching Soul and gently brushes his bangs from his sweating forehead, making soothing noises as she runs her fingers through white hair. 

“It’s alright. It won’t hurt anyone else. We stopped it. Shh, it won’t hurt anyone anymore.” 

Slowly, Soul stops retching, stops shaking. He’s still staring at the body in front of them, shoulders tense, body coiled, and Maka can almost hear the thoughts churning through his head, wonders if this is it for him, for them. Death is such a constant in the lives of Meisters and Weapons (people, kishin, _each other_ ) and maybe Soul hadn’t realised, maybe he doesn’t know how to handle it. Maybe he doesn’t _want_ to. He wouldn’t be the first to leave when faced with the reality of a Weapon’s (and Meister’s) future, the realisation that gruesome death would forever be a third, unavoidable companion to a partnership. 

He would not be the first to leave, and Maka braces herself. She hasn’t known him that long, doesn’t know him that well, and yeah, he’s loyal and kind and protective under all the snark and she thinks he might be her best friend, but she can deal. 

When he finally looks at her, though, the look in his eyes is pure determination (and perhaps a little desperation), and Maka is almost - _almost_ \- surprised. 

“I want to be a Death Scythe. I - we need to take more missions.” 

And Maka understands. Ambition (for recognition, for love, for her mother’s return) drives her, and she thinks Soul is running away, a little bit, that Death City and kishin-slaying and their partnership are his escape (he looks at pianos with hurt in his eyes and never talks about his past), but they are Weapon and Meister, and more than anything else they fight the madness that creeps into the world. They are the first and the last defence. 

Maka straightens her back and smiles, offering a hand to her partner, and pulls him to his feet. His jaw is set and his grip is tight and she knows that he won’t leave, not yet, not over this. He understands and he fights and he stays. 

“Soul. Are you okay?” 

“‘M fine. ’S cool.” 

Maka lets go of his hand and pretends not to see the wetness in his eyes as he swallows the kishin’s soul.

Four missions later, when they stumble upon the decapitated upper half of an older woman, he doesn’t shake or puke. But they fight better that day, their motions fluid and in sync and Maka thinks she feels the beginnings of resonance take root.


	2. push

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maka has always been brave. Soul has always been there when she is not.

Maka has always been brave, always been fierce. When Soul wants to hold back and asses the situation, Maka charges ahead, movements fluid and precise, no margin for error. Soul directs her, strategises and thinks, and Maka charges, not fearlessly but bravely, ahead. This is how they work and he’s used to it. She might be a nerdy bookworm with ridiculous pigtails, but she’s honest and stubborn and brave. She makes him brave, makes him believe, always, that as long as she is fighting, they will win. So when she collapses to the ground, eyes wide and green and pupils small, trained on some invisible force surrounding the man in front of them, Soul is scared shitless. Maka has never backed down from a fight, not ever, no matter the odds, and he doesn’t know what drains her courage, can’t see what her perceptive eyes see. Can only yell at her - he doesn’t know what else to do, has never learned to heal and coach, only to push and _break_ \- but to no avail. 

Her head drops in defeat and for the first time in his career as her Weapon, Soul thinks about running. Grabbing Maka by the arm and getting the hell out of there, consequences be damned. It’s a fleeting thought. Black Star is still on the ground, fate unknown, Tsubaki hovering over him, kind and protective and loyal to a fault. 

And they don’t run. They don’t. It’s not _them_. Maka has taught him, long ago, that they stand their ground, they fight, and they win. Soul doesn’t think they’ll win today, doesn’t think they’ll see tomorrow, but he is Maka’s weapon and he will fight to make her proud, to support her, to protect her. She’s the best friend he’s ever had and he would fight for her - die for her - whether or not he was bound by duty to do so. 

But he’d rather fight _with_ her and he puts a hand on her shoulder and kneels, urging her, pushing her, desperation creeping into the edges of his voice, because Maka is defeated, completely and utterly defeated, and he’s never seen her like this. In some ways, she’s always seemed larger than life, always barging ahead, capable and determined and brave, but this Maka is neither of those things so Soul does the only thing he knows how to do when faced with such discomfort; he _pushes_ and he _yells_ , shakes her and insults her and makes her look at him - finally - with hopeless eyes. 

He stares, distraught and despairing into deep green, sad green, looking for something he recognises, something he can grab hold of and push into action and - yes. This is Maka, and even in the depths of despair, she is fierce and loyal, a fighter through and through, and Soul latches on to that, this spark of resolution and he pushes. Just a soul, he reminds her in a voice that sounds much more steady than he feels, _not your future_. 

And though they both know that they will most likely die, and that Stein on his own is absolutely stronger than the both of them combined, she smiles at him, finally, and he grins. 

"Come on,” he says, “if we die, we die cool.“ 

Maka’s shoulders set and her attention focuses - the look in her eyes a promise just for him- and gets to her feet. 

"Sorry about that. I’m better now." 

"No problem,” Soul says and transforms, and there’s something in him that shifts, something other than his physical form. Maka has always been pulling him along, encouraging him and supporting him and helping him, and he’s felt like a leech, feeding of her friendship and her kindness and giving nothing in return. But Maka is standing up because he pushed, fighting because he pushed and yelled, and even if they die, it will be with their friendship intact and the knowledge that they stood their ground and braved their fears, together. Always together. 

Something in their bond falls into place and Soul feels warmth and trust towards his partner, and for the first time feels that maybe - maybe - he might one day deserve her friendship and her care. 

They resonate, successfully, for the first time, and fail. Stein is much stronger than them and they never stood a chance, and Maka, Meister and fighter that she is, takes the brunt of the hit, her body crumbling to the ground. She’s his Meister, his best friend, his comrade, and Soul will not let Stein and his creepy knives come near her, even if it kills him. He’s thirteen and he knows that he will die for this girl. 

(Of course, it was all just a test, and he and Maka both nurse bitter bruises - mental and physical - for weeks after. But something has changed between them, and Soul knows, now, that he belongs, knows that, unquestionably, he will always have a home with her).


	3. not good enough (don't leave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Soul is an insecure mess who _doesn't understand_.

“Ever since we got back from Italy something’s been bothering her.” 

He’s afraid she’ll leave him. Soul is cool, and cool guys are honest with themselves ( _sometimes_ ). He had thought that he’d been improving as a scythe, getting better, getting _stronger_ ; he and Maka could do Soul Resonance to a degree and they were getting closer, their partnership and friendship deepening. 

Or it had been. Until Italy. Until they found out just how weak Soul was as a Weapon, so weak that Maka couldn’t even use him against Crona, almost getting herself killed in the process of shielding him from harm. 

Jumping in front of that sword is the best thing Soul has ever done. The only noble thing, he thinks. He did what a Weapon is supposed to do for its’ Meister, but, more importantly, he saved Maka’s life. His only complaint is that he didn’t die - at least then Maka wouldn’t have to deal with how useless he has become. He knows he’s wallowing a bit heavily in self-pity, but he’s afraid that his inability to do scything properly is why she’s been acting weird lately. He’s afraid that Maka has finally realised that she, strong and smart and driven, can do better than his lazy ass. That she can progress and evolve more easily with another Weapon, one who isn’t wrecked with insecurities, one that can communicate and doesn’t carry around a fucked-up inferiority-complex courtesy of a fucked-up family. 

Soul has finally found a place to belong, at the academy, with Maka as his Meister, and he’s scared shitless that she’ll find another Weapon to partner with. He knows he won’t loose her friendship, Maka doesn’t roll like that, once you’re her friend you’re her _friend_ , whether you want it or not, but their partnership is equally as important to him. It gives him purpose, gives him _family_. He can’t loose it. 

He tells Medusa about it, some of it, and, as luck would have it, Maka enters immediately after, all sunshine and smiles until her eyes catch at the scar that now stretches across his stomach, and she falters. Soul can all but feel her retreat into herself and he is so unused to Maka - bold and brave and always charging ahead - retreating, that he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to help, but doesn’t know how. Wants to ask her what’s wrong, but is too afraid of the answer (coward, coward, _selfish coward_ ). 

His hands clutch at his shirt, above his heart, above the scar, and he curses himself for not being stronger, for not being the Weapon she needs, the Weapon she deserves. 

Maka throws him a party to celebrate his release from the hospital, and he’s just beginning to think that maybe, maybe, they can go back to normal, maybe, if he really tries, really does his very best, Maka will reconsider trashing him for a better partner. Then the witches happen. Her reaction is so quick that the group, full and content, barely have time to react, but she, the only one among them able to detect soul wavelengths, feels the full force of the witches’ souls, and runs to find them. 

Leaving Soul, her Weapon, behind. Maka, he realises, would rather face two dangerous witches on her own, unprotected, than bring the useless slap of metal that is Soul Eater. 

He thinks this is what despair feels like, and it takes everything in him not to give in to the dark thoughts pulling at him, not to let the anxious beating of his heart, the rhythm of _not good enough, weak, not good enough, weak,_ keep him rooted to his chair. 

Even if he is useless as a Weapon, he can still protect her, the scar on his stomach is a testament to that at least, as well as the only fucking thing he’s done in his life worth anything, so if he can protect Maka in any way, he will, whether she wants him to - and he doesn’t think that she does - or not. He follows her, too far behind to be of any use, but he runs and ignores the throbbing pain in his scar with every beat of his feet against pavement. 

“Maka!” he yells and tries very hard to hide the desperation in his voice. “Are you alright, Maka? You shouldn’t run off on your own, it’s too dangerous.” 

She’s obviously not alright, even if she says she is. The look in her eye… She won’t look at him, and he can think of only one reason why; that kind Maka cannot bring herself to hurt a friend by ending a partnership. Soul makes the decision for her, takes it out of her hands. 

“You have to tell me what’s going on.” 

He braces himself for the impact of her ultimate rejection, but, in the end, it is not at him that she looks. In fact, to his complete and utter confusion, she looks right past him, to professor Stein. She has found out what she’s lacking, she explains, and Soul knows what she’s lacking, she needs a partner who can do his fucking job right, not get himself hospitalised and - 

“In that case, I’d like you and Soul to come to my office tomorrow for a special lesson.” 

Huh? Stein wants them to do what-now? 

There was, Soul realises, as Maka nods and heads home, something he had missed.


	4. ancore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Star's a dumb kid with a heart larger than the universe.

Black Star had felt his heart break.

He had been a baby when his family turned kishin and their soul’s were reaped, when he was taken in by the academy and raised in Death City. There was nothing to remember, and thus little to miss. He had never had a family, and that had been okay. He had the academy, he had a nerdy, hard-headed, pig-tailed friend, and kind professors who indulged his attention-craving ways. 

And then he’d met Tsubaki and he understood what having a family was like, the feeling of unwavering loyalty and trust both given and received, understood what it meant to be near someone and feel at ease with the world, feel accepted and appreciated simply for being. 

He couldn’t loose her. 

Black Star was a great star, but only because he had something to shine for, and he would never be a real star without Tsubaki. 

“Ancore, Tsubaki, ancore!” 

He realised what desperation felt like, a constricting throat and increasing heartbeat and the feeling that the world was verging on the edge of an endless abyss. 

She couldn’t be gone. He would not allow it. She couldn’t be. 

The sword transformed, and Black Star was ready he would _maim, torture, kill_ this _thing_ that had taken Tsubaki and - she was alive. Black Star needed only a second for the world to fall back into place. For the realisation to hit him; he was still the greatest star, cause Tsubaki was still there. 

But he understood now. When people were afraid of loosing their loved ones, he had never fully grasped it, had never come close to it or had someone so essential to his existence to loose. He understood it now. And he’d be damned to hell if he’d ever let someone take that from him. 

He hugs her - or he thinks he hugs her, he’s never _hugged_ anyone before, not with emotion like this, but this seems the most godly show of affection - and pats her on the head and grins and shouts and doesn’t let on, but Tsubaki is insightful and empathic and she understands what he isn’t saying.


End file.
